


In The Wings

by rainflash



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, grantaire saves the day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 13:51:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5668330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainflash/pseuds/rainflash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been five years since the last time they've seen each other, but Grantaire spots Enjolras the moment he walks into the club.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Wings

It's been five years since the last time they've seen each other, but Grantaire spots Enjolras the moment he walks into the club. He expects someone else to follow, to join Enjolras, but apparently he's here on his own, which doesn't make sense. In all the time he's known Enjolras – or knew him, really – Enjolras has never been the type for clubbing. Sometimes Courfeyrac and Jehan could convince Enjolras to join them, but that was an infrequent occurrence. And now here he is. Of all the clubs in Paris, it had to be this one. Merde. A customer taps on Grantaire's bar and Grantaire automatically smiles at them and offers an apology. When he glances back again, Enjolras has been swallowed by the crowd. 

Grantaire's customers keep him busy enough that he can almost forget that Enjolras is there. Usually he enjoys working here; it's a fancy club and most people want fancy mixed drinks and cocktails and gives him an opportunity to show off his skills and tricks. But right now he'd love to just pull beer from the taps so he could work on finding Enjolras among the masses. Not that he wants to. Definitely not.

It's just… it's been so long. And he thought he'd moved on. He'd thought that after they'd graduated and Enjolras had been on his way to an internship and greatness that he'd be able to forget. He'd done his best, going out with Courfeyrac and Jehan volunteering to be his wingmen. He'd even brought a few girls back home with him, trying to make new memories to erase the old. But nobody ever quite measured up, so he'd given up on that and turned his focus to his work as a bartender and his dancing. He'd thought it had worked, but one glimpse of his ex-something and he's utterly gone again.

And holy fuck Enjolras looks even better than he did five years ago. He's obviously been finding time in his busy schedule to hit the gym. His skin-tight jeans and clingy black shirt had done nothing to hide his abs and biceps and that ass… Now that he's thinking about Enjolras again, he can practically feel his presence, and he makes himself dizzy trying to catch even a glimpse of him. And really, there's no reason he couldn't take a break and go try to find him. But because Grantaire is a coward, he takes a break and goes outside to smoke instead. 

He's halfway through his second cigarette when the door slams open and someone comes staggering out. Grantaire rolls his eyes – after working here for three years he's fed up to here with drunks and it'll likely be him hosing their sick off the ground after they've closed for the night. He's deliberately not looking when he hears the inevitable sound of vomit hitting the pavement, then someone dry-heaving. He flicks his cigarette butt into the street, and turns to go back inside. 

“Holy shit. Enjolras...” He's at Enjolras's side in a flash, kneeling beside him. Enjolras gags a bit and looks as if he's about to collapse into the puddle of his own sick, so Grantaire puts an arm around him and eases him back, propping him against the wall. “Are you okay?”

Enjolras finally turns bleary eyes to him and blinks slowly a few times. There's no recognition there. “I don't… I can't…” His eyes slip shut and his head lolls toward his shoulder.

“Jesus, Apollo, how much have you had to drink?”

“I haven't… just two.” Enjolras waves a hand in the air and frowns at it as he tries to hold up the appropriate number of fingers. 

“Are you sure? Just two?” He catches Enjolras's hand and holds it in his own. Even for a lightweight, two drinks in the span of a couple of hours shouldn't have him in this state.  
“Yep, definitely only two.” His speech is slow and slurred and a horrible sinking feeling settles in the pit of Grantaire's stomach as he realizes that he never saw Enjolras at the bar.

“Did anyone buy you a drink?” Enjolras tries to open his eyes and gives up. “Hey! Enjolras! Look at me. Open your eyes and look at me please. Did someone else bring you a drink?”

Enjolras manages to pry his eyes open and they settle on Grantaire and this time it seems like maybe there's a flash of recognition, but then it's gone. “Yeah, there was a guy – I'm gonna be sick again.” And then he is, and he doesn't quite manage to get all of it on the pavement this time.

“Right, I'm getting you to the hospital.” Grantaire pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials 112, giving them his location and telling them that he thinks his friend has been roofied. When he hangs up with them, he immediately calls the club, giving them a rundown of what's happened and saying he's going to the hospital with Enjolras. The manager is understanding, which Grantaire knew he'd be, but it's still a relief. He manages to shift them both away from the newest puddle of vomit and holds Enjolras in his arms until the ambulance shows up.

*************************************

Once they get to the hospital, Enjolras is whisked away on a stretcher and Grantaire is handed a pile of paperwork to fill out. The police arrive, too, to ask him questions about what he saw, if anything. Eventually he's left alone to wait until the doctor decides he can see Enjolras. He pulls out his phone and brings up his contacts, wondering who he should call. It seems obvious that he should call Combeferre at the least, and probably Jehan and Courfeyrac as well, but he hesitates, wondering if Enjolras would want them to see him in this condition. If it's something he ever wants them to know about. So instead he just plays Candy Crush and Bejeweled until a doctor is calling his name.

He stands up and shakes the woman's hand, introducing himself as Enjolras's friend. “He's doing well, all considered,” she tells him. “We pumped his stomach and gave him activated charcoal. He's breathing on his own, but we have a nasal cannula on him just for good measure. We've also got him on a drip.” Grantaire nods along as he processes what she's saying. “He's more alert and coherent than he was when he came in and managed to answer some questions for us.” She pauses for a moment before continuing. “He also shows no sign of sexual assault, and he says that it didn't happen.” This is a good thing, because it means that Grantaire doesn't have to actually kill anyone. “You can see him if you'd like.”

Now that it's come to it, Grantaire hesitates. Enjolras didn't recognize him before, but what about now? Would he welcome Grantaire sitting at his bedside? He's about to decline and tell the doctor he'll call one of Enjolras's other friends when she catches his eye. “He's up there scared and alone. He needs a friend.” She smiles kindly at him and reaches out to squeeze his shoulder. “Go on. It'll be okay. And the nurses will check in on him in a bit.”

Grantaire smiles a little bit and nods. “Thank you. For everything.”

“You're welcome. Now go on up and see him. It's room 402”.

Grantaire prepares himself on the lift ride up and as he navigates the corridors. Finally he finds the room and takes a deep breath as he opens the door. 

Enjolras is tucked into a bed, nearly as pale as the sheets. His clothes are stacked neatly in a chair and he's wearing a horrible hospital gown. Sure enough there are oxygen prongs up his nose and an IV in his arm. His eyes are closed, but open when Grantaire pulls another chair up to the bedside.

“So it really was you.” Enjolras's voice is soft and harsh and Grantaire can't help wincing. “I thought I must have been hallucinating you.” He pauses and swallows. “Thank you.” He reaches out for Grantaire's hand and squeezes it. 

“You're welcome.” He squeezes back and sighs softly when Enjolras doesn't let go. “Can I ask… why were you there? You were never one for clubbing, especially not on your own.”

Enjolras shrugs with one shoulder. “I've loosened up a bit over the last five years. I still don't go out often, but… I'm in Paris for a while – actually thinking of moving back – and… I don't know quite know if I was hoping to bump into you or hoping to forget you. I had no idea you worked there.” He's quiet for a minute, studying their joined hands. “I missed you,” he admits quietly, “and I've always regretted that things between us were left unresolved.” 

“Me, too.” Grantaire's thumb brushes across Enjolras's knuckles. “I've spent the last five years trying to get over you.”

“'m sorry,” Enjolras mumbles as his eyes slip shut.

“You should sleep.”

“Will you be here when I wake up?” Enjolras sounds so vulnerable in that moment and it pulls at Grantaire's heart.

“Of course.” He lifts Enjolras's hand and presses a kiss to the inside of his wrist.

“Good.” And then Enjolras is asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> if you enjoyed this, please consider [Buying Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/P5P78SGA)


End file.
